The Lullaby
by JEGlass
Summary: Gifts at Christmas are always difficult to gauge, especially when royalty are involved. What do you give a woman who literally has the world at her fingertips? Revel has a plan, he just has to distract Elsa long enough to bring it to fruition. A Revelsa one-shot.


"A shame you couldn't grace the dance floor with your beauty this Yule, Queen Elsa," Duke Ferdinand chuckled as he swirled the golden champagne in his fluted will-ice glass. Already his cheeks had taken on a ruddy hue from consuming quite a few glasses, making his brown eyes sparkle playfully in the warm light of the ballroom. The gentle buzz of conversation and the scent of spiced cider and pine filled the air, suffusing it with the essence of the holiday. Beyond the tall frosted windows—adorned with strands of garland and delicate will-ice decoration—lazy snowflakes drifted from a cloudy sky, the first real snow of winter finally marching over Arendelle, announcing the season like a trumpet herald.

"I'm afraid there isn't an ounce of grace left in me at this point," Elsa sighed, placing a gentle hand against the side of her severely swollen stomach and smiled. The little one inside her shifted as if sensing its mother's touch, already growing restless in the confines of the queen's womb.

 _Believe me little one,_ the queen thought silently, _I'm as eager to see you as you are to escape me._

Ferdinand snorted. "My dear, I dare say you are the envy of every pregnant woman in this or any kingdom. Where others simply suffer in silence while carrying their children, your grace is hardly diminished. Why, you positively glow!"

Elsa fought to keep from rolling her eyes. Yes, Duke Ferdinand had indeed been drinking quite a lot this evening, and his gushing was starting to boarder on outlandish overindulgence. The queen had always taken flattery of any kind like a spoon-full of sugar before medicine, but too much of a sweet thing oftentimes left behind toothaches, and Elsa could feel her teeth rotting. A few complements here and there were always welcome, especially for a woman who might have become a little self-conscious about her size over the course of her nine month pregnancy, but this was going a bit above and beyond the call of duty. Still, she couldn't begrudge the old fool for fawning. Ferdinand meant well.

Sparing a glance over her shoulder, the queen searched for signs of her absent husband but couldn't spot him in the ever-revolving crowd. Revel had excused himself half way through the party after a few blissfully short dances—swollen ankles were only a few cruelties Elsa's body had thrown at her as of late—explaining he had one last order of business to attend to before the night was through. Elsa, instantly wary, begrudgingly let him go, but couldn't help feel his absence like an itch she couldn't quite scratch. Revel had been doing that lately, running off to some secret place, using his knowledge of the passages in the walls to move about undetected. It was an irksome habit made all the more irritating because he knew his wife disapproved of it. Not because she feared he was doing something nefarious, but because she couldn't sneak after him or have him followed. Revel was too good at covering his tracks.

 _Someday I will best you at your games, husband-of-mine._

A wave of sudden and profound nostalgia struck Elsa as she turned back towards the groups of dancing couples at the center of the ballroom. Had it really been that long ago since her and Revel's first shared Yule dance? She could remember it with almost crystal clarity. They'd danced the Five Step waltz together, playing the game and dueling for control over the other as the dance progressed into an intricate tug of war. In the lavish ballroom all had fallen away until it was just the two of them, the air positively crackling with electricity between them. She'd known then, in that scorching moment between heartbeats, that Revel was something different. Never had she met a man like him. It would take quite a few harrowing moments and nearly perishing at the hands of his brother for the queen to realize she loved the man she'd previously thought would remain out of reach more than she could possibly comprehend.

 _And now we are happy,_ Elsa smiled, looking down at her swollen stomach stretching the fabric of her elegant purple dress and the child—their child—growing inside her, _and we've done the impossible and started a family._

Unable to remain upset by her husband's absence, the queen returned her attention to Duke Ferdinand but only had to suffer his streams of unending complements and gushing a few minutes more before a little hand reach up and tugged at her purple dress. Startled, Elsa looked back and felt her face break into a wide smile.

"Why hello there, Thea," she cooed, giving the wobbly little girl her finger to grab ahold of as she tottered. "Did you walk over here all on your own?"

"Up," Thea said by way of answer, reaching for her aunt and opening and closing her free hand. "Up."

"Ferdinand, would you be a dear and help? I can't quite bend over," the queen laughed, motioning towards her stomach.

"Of course!" the duke nodded, passing off his will-ice flute to a passing servant and lifting Thea up. The little girl squirmed unhappily—unlike her brother Jorg, she wasn't fond of strangers picking her up or even be near her—but quieted once she'd wrapped her spindly arms around her aunts neck and squeezed her tightly. As always, a flare of warmth spread through Elsa as she held her niece and planted an affectionate kiss on her chubby cheek.

"Can you thank Duke Ferdinand for me?" Elsa inquired, turning so that Thea was facing the duke. The little girl turned shyly away with a plaintive noise, peaking out at Ferdinand with bright, inquisitive amber eyes. They were the most striking feature on Anna's daughter, almost as yellow as Kristoff's troll jewels, and filled with a razor sharp intellect.

"That is a lovely dress you have on, Princess Thea," Ferdinand smiled, his demeanor shifting from formal to fatherly in a split second. A hopeless flirt and flatterer he might be, but Ferdinand was a father first and foremost, having raised two bright young sons very nearly on his own. Thea squeaked and hid further, hiding behind her dark hair as if it were a curtain.

"So much like your father, you are, Thea," Elsa laughed, supporting the girl's weight with one arm while rubbing her back with the other. She let out a theatrical sigh and cast her gaze towards the ceiling. "I guess you won't get to see the illusive princess this Yule, Ferdinand. I do apologize."

"Quite alright, quite alright," the duke chuckled. "I'm sure I would have dropped dead from her beauty if I had! Haha!"

At this Elsa did roll her eyes and turned to see if Anna was nearby. She caught a glimpse of the redhead pulling away from Ferdinand's son Willam, Kristoff in tow, Jorg clinging to his father's index fingers as he helped his son totter after his mother. Elsa felt herself warm further as she watched the joy on the mountain man's face. He loved his children dearly, and no one could say otherwise. When Anna saw that Elsa was holding Thea she visibly relaxed and blew out a relieved breath.

"So that's where you toddled off to," the princess lightly admonished her daughter, hands on her hips. Thea buried her face in Elsa's neck and giggled.

"Ella, Ella," Thea chanted, squirming and giggling. "Auty Ella!" Suddenly taking Elsa's face in her little hands, Thea grinned, showing off the few teeth that had finally popped through her pink gums and whispered with shocking seriousness, "Agic!"

"Magic? Did I hear you right?" Elsa laughed, tickling her niece's stomach with her fingers. "Is that what you want?"

"Agic!" Thea exclaimed, throwing up her arms and mimicking how Elsa oftentimes dispersed her magic after use.

"Oh I see how it is. You want your aunt more than me because she can do magic," Anna sniffed, feigning hurt feelings.

Elsa couldn't help up smile again and kiss her niece on the cheek. With just a flick of her fingers she conjured a palm-sized snowflake imbued with her will and handed it to a wide eyed Thea. The little princess took it and broke into a stream of rolling cackles before promptly stuffing it in her mouth and chewing, beads of drool slipping from her tiny lips.

"You are impossible," Anna sighed and rolled her eyes at her daughter. "Everything goes into your mouth. _Everything._ "

"Oh, don't seem so surprised," Elsa chided lightly. "You were the same way. Mama couldn't wear any jewelry around you for your first two years without fearing you'd somehow get it off her and swallow it."

The princess stuck her tongue out at her sister but couldn't help but chuckle. "She's copying her brother, that's all."

"I see . So we're picking up Jorg's bad habits, are we?" Elsa commented, attempting to disentangle Thea from her so she could hand her back to her mother. The little princess was having none of it and clung tighter with an irritated whine.

In the beginning Jorg had been the adventurous one, rolling and scooting everywhere, never sitting still. But as time wore on Thea began to want to explore the world around her. Learning to walk only perpetuated the problem for both children, and more than once the sisters had thrown themselves into a near panic when discovering just how adept at climbing and toddling these two rambunctious twins were. It had prompted Elsa to seriously think about creating a companion for the children who could keep watch and report directly to the queen. Olaf, though absolutely wonderful with the children, oftentimes fed into their bad habits, letting them get away with almost anything.

 _Seems I need to take a note from Saja. Maybe I'll look into that after the first of the year._

"Elsa, are you listening?"

"Hmm?" the queen looked up from her thoughts, clearing having missed an important piece of conversation. "I'm sorry, I got lost in my head again."

"I noticed," Anna pouted. "Anything you care to share?"

"No, just processing everything that needs to be done before the end of the holidays," Elsa lied, knowing how it would make Anna feel if she brought up the possibility of creating an ice being to help with Jorg and Thea. The queen meant well, she really did, but to Anna it would seem as if Elsa were insinuating the princess wasn't capable of taking care of her family. So Elsa kept it to herself to mull over later in the privacy of her quarters with her missing husband.

"Uh-huh, sure," the princess deadpanned, not convinced in the least but letting the matter drop. "Anyway, what I was saying was: Revel wanted me to come and get you. He said he has something for you."

"Oh, does he now?" Elsa sniffed, canting her head. "Well, I'm sure my absent husband can come and show me this surprise himself."

"It's…not that easy," Anna said with a playful wince that instantly made the queen wary. Elsa knew Anna had a hand in this too, but that didn't put her suspicions to rest. On the contrary, it made her worry even more.

Narrowing her eyes, Elsa stared at the redhead for a long moment trying to decide if she should go along with the ruse or demand an answer. It was Yule, after all, so she figured she could be a little less tense around possible surprises.

"Where does he want me to meet him?" she eventually inquired.

"Upstairs by the statue of Saja."

 _A favorite meeting spot for the two of us,_ the queen thought. Strange how an originally nondescript strip of hallway had become such a popular meeting place for the family. It was as if the queen's Frosberg ancestor was still working beyond the grave to keep the family as close-knit as possible.

 _Though Saja really doesn't have to try all that hard,_ Elsa internally winced, wanting to touch the hidden brand on her shoulder. _And she's certainly active for a woman dead four hundred years._

"But what about our guests?" Elsa countered lamely, honestly looking for a reason not to traipse after Revel. "I can't just—"

"Elsa," Anna interrupted, taking her sister's cool hand and effectively silencing her, "last time I checked, I'm royalty too. I can watch our guests and see them out."

"But I—"

"You're also heavily pregnant and could use a rest. There's nothing wrong with that. Now go. I've got this."

For just a brief moment the queen felt her words leave her, stranding her momentarily in stunned silence. When had Anna become so strong and confident? Elsa realized with a start that the princess had always been like that; she just hadn't let Anna really take the reins out of some perverse, inherited habit. Elsa was queen, that was her duty, the role she'd been raised her entire life to fulfill, but Anna was just as capable. Still naïve about certain things, but that was to be expected. So remarkably without much reluctance, Elsa nodded and allowed her sister to take Thea from around her neck—the little one whining and reaching for her aunt—and assume command of the remainder of the ball and its guests while she went in search of reclusive Revel.

Making her goodbye's brief, the queen made for the residency wing as quickly as her pregnant body would allow. She waved off an offer of help from Sigmund—the big guard, now captain of the Queen's Guard, who stood watch by the door as was his habit—and proceeded at her own pace up the spiral staircase. Anna hadn't been joking when she'd explained that Elsa would experience some major changes over the course of nine short months. Walking and basic balance had become quite a challenge as the weight in her front steadily increased. The queen also experienced near chronic fatigue and swollen joints, making even the most mundane things like walking up a flight of stairs a challenge. It had been a miracle she'd lasted as long as she had at the ball. Usually an hour into events she was practically giddy with the need to sit and rest.

 _Little one, I love you dearly, but I will be happy when you are no longer inside me._

Eventually she turned a final corner and began walking down the long stretch of hallway which would lead her to the statue of her ancestor she'd had commissioned shortly after the announcement of her pregnancy. Wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, Elsa reached the statue and slouched with a sigh, struggling to catch her breath. Recovering slightly, the queen straightened and stared at the eerie likeness of herself carved out of alabaster marble. As Revel had suspected, the royal stonemason had been a bit perplexed as to why the queen had wanted this particular statue erected in the castle. With no known documents or portraits of the first Frost Born, it seemed as if Elsa had been struck with a fantastical flight of fancy. Regardless, the mason had done as instructed and brought Saja's visage to life in marble, which was something the Frost Born herself had openly laughed at.

 _You pay me too high an honor,_ Saja had said during one of her infrequent dream visits with her descendant. _But I will not say I dislike the flattery. Your mason is a truly gifted artist. He made me actually look approachable! Who would have thought?_

"Coin for your thoughts?"

Elsa gasped at the question whispered in her ear and spun a little too tightly, releasing a blast of arctic magic that frosted the hall in either direction. She felt her back crack, flooding her body with a moment of bright pain. Cradled within her womb, the little one shifted and rolled, reacting to the excitement its mother was experiencing. Revel wasn't fast enough to dodge being frosted, screwing his eyes tightly shut and blanching when the cold him like a rogue wave. Despite being covered from forehead to knee in clinging frost, he smiled and wiped the snow from his eyes and face with his hands.

"God above, Revel!" the queen panted, one hand clutching her chest and the other shoving him hard in the shoulder. "Do you want me to go into early labor or is it a heart attack you're aiming for?"

"Neither," the king consort laughed, stepping forward and attempting to wrap his wife in a hug, which she was having no part in.

"What have you been doing all night?" Elsa demanded, more angry than she realized she had need to be. Was this actually her or her pregnancy talking? Wincing, she tried again in a softer tone. "You were missed at the party."

"I just wanted to put the finishing touches on your gift," Revel replied with just the slightest hint of a frown. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, no, don't apologize. It's not you." The queen took a breath to calm her jumbled nerves and forced a smile. "What have you been doing that's been demanding more attention from you than you pregnant wife?"

"Is that a hint of jealousy I sense?" Revel teased, reaching into his trouser pocket. It was then that Elsa realized he'd changed from formal attire into one of his training uniforms.

"I think you're seeing things," Elsa sniffed.

"You are jealous!"

"And you're filled with fanciful delusion. What am I supposed to see?"

"Close your eyes first," Revel instructed before withdrawing the item from his pocket, which he kept pressed against his palm so she couldn't see. Elsa raised a perfect eyebrow but did as instructed, playing along with his game. Instead of placing an item in her hands, however, he grabbed ahold and began leading her in the direction of their room.

"Revel what—"

"Keep your eyes closed. No peaking. I'll know if you do."

"This is hardly necessary."

"Bear with me."

"Fine," she sighed and resigned herself to being lead. It sounded like they'd passed through their room door—the familiar scent of Elsa's perfume filling her nose and the carpets becoming just a little more plush—but then a second door was opened and the queen found herself slightly confused. Why was he taking her into the salon just off their quarters?

"Can I open my eyes?"

"Hold on a moment," he said, hurriedly letting go of her hands and scrambling around the room. It was strange. Elsa though she smelled wood varnish and paint. She rarely used her salon for anything save for light storage due to the fact her closet was perfectly sized for her needs. Queen though she may be, Elsa wasn't a creature of vanity and was happy with the assortment of gowns and dresses she'd acquired over the years. It was amazing how bodices and corsets could be interchanged with different underdresses in literally hundreds of variations.

"All right…" she heard him say from a short distance away, "now."

Whatever she'd had in mind, whatever playful words had been sitting idly on her tongue were pushed out in a rush of stunned amazement that left her utterly speechless. She didn't know where to look first or for how long, her bright eyes captured by so many wonderful things. Her husband stood in the center of her salon with arms outstretched, only it wasn't a salon anymore. It was a nursery. The old furnishings had been removed and replaced with delicate pieces of hand-cut furniture made from cherry and maple wood. Colorful tapestries hung on the freshly painted, sea foam green walls. Under foot, the hardwood floor had been polished to a glossy shine and fresh, plush rugs put down in strategic places around the room to help combat any draft that might snake in. And to the left, situated against the wall, was an antique cradle bassinet made from a velvety golden wood Elsa had never before seen.

"Revel…what—"

"I hope you like it," the king consort said hurriedly, his anxiousness making him jittery. "I've been secretly working on this for a couple of months. I wanted it to be a surprise." Seeing the shock on his wife's face, he launched into a hasty explanation of everything he, Anna, and Kristoff had done together. "Your sister helped me paint the walls—I hope you like the color. Something neutral because we don't know the baby's gender. It can be changed later, if you'd like. Kristoff ordered the furniture from a carpenter friend of Olken. I think he did a wonderful job balancing rustic with castle elegance. There's a new armoire and wardrobe, changing table, dresser for cloths and blankets and new socks and bed clothes—Oh! And we replaced the glass in the upper window of the balcony door. Anna came up with the idea and commissioned new stained glass to be made and installed. See, it's a snowflake just like—"

He stopped abruptly when he saw Elsa approach the bassinet and tentatively touch the wood, teary eyes wide with wonder. Her attention had been captured by it almost immediately, drawing her over like a siren's song. The wood was impossibly smooth under her palms and gleaming like spun gold in the light of half a dozen lamps burning around the room. Though the design was simple it held an undercurrent of elegance that bespoke of loving hands carving every facet and corner, every bar and scrolled boarder. Her cool fingers slid over the insignia expertly hewn into the footrest, two swords crossed with a flaming crown hovering above them: the Asham family crest.

"Was…this yours?" she asked in a quivering voice barely above a whisper.

"It was," Revel nodded and moved beside her, resting his hands on the smooth wood. "I had Symon ship it over from where it was in storage. My father made this crib for me. It's crafted from a special kind of oak that only grows in this little valley a couple of miles from the coast. He made all my brothers' cribs with it, but this one was mine."

"You slept here," Elsa said quietly, touching the soft mattress and folded blankets while trying to envision what an infant Revel would have looked like.

"And now our child will, too," the king consort whispered, taking his wife in his arms and kissing the side of her cool neck.

The queen let out soft gasp, body suddenly alive with tingles, but found her attention drawn to the crib yet again. She noticed for the first time four small dolls resting in either of the bassinet's top corners. The first two she instantly recognized as identical copies of the dolls Elsa's mother had given her and Anna as children. She knew her dolls—the ones she'd had as a child—were buried in a decorative box between the stone monoliths atop the Overlook. So either these dolls were Anna's, which she doubted, or they were brand new copies. The other two were indeed new, and she felt a smile split her face. One was a doll version of Kristoff, blond hair barely kept under his gray wool cap. He wore his gray ice harvester outfit and had brown button eyes. The other was a doll version of Revel. His green button eyes peeked out from behind a shaggy mop of brown curls, and he wore what looked like a casual version of his old guard's uniform. Elsa picked up the doll version of her husband and laughed.

"Ingrid made them," Revel said by way of explanation. "She thought it was only proper for the queen and princess to have their respective husbands made into dolls alongside them."

"I'll be sure to send her my thanks," the queen replied, placing the doll back in its place and slowly looked around the room. A powerful rush of joy abruptly hit her like a cannon ball and the tears welling in her cerulean blue eyes slipped down her cheeks. Suddenly it all became real. Many times over the course of her pregnancy Elsa had marveled at the surreality of how her life had unfolded. She'd never once expected to be standing beside the man she loved, pregnant with the child they'd made together, in the nursery he'd surprised her with on the day she'd first realized she loved him. It was just too fantastic—like a fairy tale—yet here she was.

"Do you like it?" Revel asked one last time, pulling her close to him taking her face in his hands.

"It's perfect," she hiccuped and smiled, wrapping her arms around him—or as much as she could with her swollen stomach stretched between them—and held him close.

"I have one last finishing touch to make," he said, kissing her cheek before pulling away. From a drawer in the new nightstand he withdrew something small hanging from a length of ribbon. Elsa recognized it instantly and idly wondered if her cheeks were going to freeze in a permanent grin from all the smiling she was doing.

"I've been meaning to find a place for this and figured there couldn't be a better spot than here in our nursery," he said, holding the will-ice snowflake Elsa had made him nearly two years ago by its decorative ribbon. With deft fingers Revel tied the glimmering piece of permanent ice to the bare wooden mobile settled above the crib.

"Where are the rest of the ornaments?" the queen inquired with a slight frown. It hadn't hit her until now that the mobile was just a gathering of sew together wooden sticks.

"The nursery isn't complete without your personal touch," Revel replied, lifting Elsa's right hand and lightly kissing it.

"Is that so?" she asked, lacing her fingers with his and leaning against her husband's shoulder. "Then what should it be?"

"Let your imagination guide you."

"I've been told I can be wholly unimaginative at times," Elsa countered, glittering eyes watching Revel's snowflake gently turn on its ribbon.

"Really?" Revel deadpanned, looking down at her. "The woman who insists on decorating for events with her magic and, oh, I almost forgot, rebuilt her ice castle in a matter of minutes, is unimaginative? Yes, you have no imagination what-so-ever. How could I have possibly fallen in love with a talentless woman such as yourself?"

"Talentless? Sir, I said I was unimaginative, not mundane," the queen scoffed, fighting not to smile again, and flicked her wrist towards the mobile. Glittering ice swept across the wood and slipped from the ends like sliding icicles, twisting and bulging until they took on the shape Elsa intended. Where there was once plain wood now hung a delicate and enchanting mobile complete with shockingly intricate and lifelike versions of common animals found along the fjord and surrounding country side. Revel spotted a winter hare, snow owl, wolf, bear, hawk, sea gull, and…

"What's this?" he frowned, touching the edifice of an elegant looking feline. It didn't look like any cat he'd seen in Arendelle. On the contrary, Revel had only seen this particular big cat while traveling with his father and brothers into northern Russia on trade business.

"A snow leopard," Elsa replied with a quizzical tilt of her head, touching the delicate ornament with her fingertips. "That's odd, I didn't intend to make this one."

"Have you ever seen one?" the king consort asked, feeling the tug of childhood memories. Though he'd only ever seen a snow leopard in captivity the animal had taken his breath away with its beauty and silent grace. Glancing at his wife out of the corner of his eye, Revel couldn't help but see the same arctic beauty reflected in Elsa. She was graceful and regal, poised and fierce and unassumingly lethal. Yes, the correlation fit like a glove, and he couldn't fathom why he was so lucky to have her by his side.

"Only in pictures and once when a traveling group of mummers came through the kingdom."

A sudden tingle raced across the brand on Elsa's shoulder and exploded across her chest, raising goosebumps along the length of her body. Revel seemed to sense it too, startled by the warming of his own hidden mark, and looked down at his wife expectantly, waiting for her to explain what had happened.

"Seems I have my answer," the queen said quietly, letting the ornament go and stepping back.

"Answer to what?"

"I'll tell you later," Elsa smiled and turned her husband by his hips so that she could wrap him in a tight hug. "Have I told you that I love you recently?" she whispered, hands clutching the fabric of his tunic, face buried in his chest.

Gently the king consort lifted his wife's head and cupped her face. He leaned down with the same gentle tenderness and kissed her with as much passion as he could, savoring her flavor and scent swirling into his nose. Elsa returned his embrace, deepening the kiss, wanting nothing more than to sink into Revel and remain there for eternity.

"Wait a moment," her husband said suddenly remembering something, pulling away with a glittering gleam in his emerald green eyes. "I forgot one more thing."

Striding across the room, Revel went back to the dresser and pulled out one more item. Carefully he set it down and lifted the lid, stepping back as he did to reveal a squat wood and brass box with a frosted glass lid. Immediately the nursery was filled with the gentle, lilting music of a music box. It took a moment for the queen to recognize the tune, but when she did she felt the onset of tears return and covered her mouth with her hands as silvery tears slid unheeded down her face. It was the lullaby her mother had sung to her as a child, the one Anna had sung to her through the door for so many years, even after their parent's death, and the song that Elsa now sang to her unborn child at night while held close in Revel's arms.

"How?" she managed to choke out.

"This was Anna's gift to the nursery. I don't know how she did it, but she did."

"It's beautiful."

Revel returned to his wife and held her close as they listened to the gentle rise and fall of music together, gently swaying in time with the rhythm. They remained like that until well after the music box had stopped playing, holding one another while the winter flurries outside the tall balcony windows grew into heaver flakes. Downstairs the ball was winding to a close, but up in the nursery the seed of new life was beginning to grow. Both the queen and her husband knew it was only a matter of days before their child greeted the world and their lives would never again be the same. So for this quiet moment they drank in the silence and tranquility, wrapped in the warmth of each other's embrace and the cheer of the season, never so happy to have the other, and never wanting the moment to come to an end.


End file.
